DHr Drabbles: Where The Pieces Fit Together
by inadaze22
Summary: All Draco/Hermione. All drabbles. All written for a variety of reasons, even boredom.
1. Master

_Disclaimer: I own nothing except my characterizations and plot. JKR owns the rest. I make no money from this._

A/N: These are an ongoing list of drabbles - stories, in this case, that are less than 500 words - that I've written in the last few months for competition and for fun. I want to express that _**none of these drabbles are connected in any way**._ I'm rating this M because some of them may be a little steamier than others...they're not all rated M, though.

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**Title:** Master  
**Rating:** R  
**Pairing:** Draco/Hermione  
**Written for:** Dramione_ldws, round 2  
**Warnings:** limes, language, sexual references**  
Word Count:** 499  
**Prompt:** Has to take place in a library.

_Draco had his witch bent over the wobbly research table—no. He had her on her knees in front of him in the Invisibility section—no. He had her back pinned against a bookshelf in the Magical History section. Ah, yes, perfect. Her legs were wrapped around his and the witch was sighing—no, moaning—no, panting as his hands disappeared under her dress…._

"Draco."

_He growled, swatting her pert bum. "I thought I told you not to call me that, Granger."_

"Malfoy?"

_"Wrong again." He swatted her, again—harder. Moaning, she arched against him, pushing those wondrous, covered—no, bare breasts closer to him…._

"How does 'insufferable slacker' sound?"

_"Master sounds much better." She grinned and pressed her lips to his as her tongue found its way into his mouth to explore. He felt her fingers loosening his trousers, pulling at the zipper, reaching, and…"Oh fuck, yes!"_

"Draco Malfoy!"

The daydream of the shaking and breathless wizard was over.

Instead of foreplay in the Magical History section, he was sitting at that wobbly table, receiving a glare from his annoyed girlfriend of five months, Hermione Granger. He was so feverish that he had had to grit his teeth to control himself. It had taken a moment, but he remembered the basics of why he was in the twenty-four hour wizarding library at midnight. It was practically empty.

For the last two weeks, they had spent thirteen hours each day sitting at that unstable table studying for their HCEs (Healer Certification Examinations).

Breathlessly, "What?"

"I asked—you weren't listening." It wasn't a question.

Granger had been meticulously pilfering through the mountain of textbooks, notes, and library books on their gimpy-legged table and quizzing him. He, meanwhile, had made a 266-item list of all the places in the library where he had wanted to shag her senseless. _Place #267: In the dragon section while she recites the twelve uses of dragon's blood, in order._ Ah, yes, good one. Merlin help her bum if she mucked up the order….

"Draco!"

His neck snapped up so hard that he winced. "I need a break."

"The exam is in a week!"

He almost smirked. Well, he would've if he hadn't been so bloody horny and close to ravaging her right there. She was the most passionate woman that he had ever dated. She threw herself into everything, put 150% of effort into any task that she had taken on, and—Merlin, with her passion and his drive, sex between them was just incredible.

He groaned at the tantalizing memories in his head.

"Granger, I can't think—" He froze when she absently licked her lips, eyeing him mischievously.

_Place #268: In the Potions section while she lists every potion in which moonstone is an ingredient._

Mmm….

"I know what's wrong."

"You do?"

"You need some inspiration."

"I do?"

"Mmhmm, and I know just what to do." She rose from her chair and smiled seductively. "I'll be waiting in the Magical History section—_Master._"


	2. Not My Place

_Disclaimer: I don't own them. JKR does and I like to play in her sandbox. Sadly, I make no monies from this. :P_

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Title:** Not My Place  
**Rating:** Slight R, but mainly PG-13  
**Pairing:** Draco/Hermione**  
Written for:** _dramione_ldws  
_**Warning:** mentions of cutting**  
Word count:** 250  
**Prompt:** Has to feature a lie and be exactly 250 words.

They say Draco's been repaired, but I know the truth. And, no, I won't tell.

It's not my place – just like it's not my place to fix him.

He refuses to be fixed.

After each breakdown, he calls and I come. Why? Because I'm all he has. Draco has no family, pride, wealth – _nothing._

I look into his eyes. _Nothing._

I touch him. _Nothing._

The war took everything from him.

Draco's self-destructive behavior is a conscious revenge tactic; it's his revenge against a world that used him as a scapegoat. He doesn't listen when I tell him that he doesn't have to destroy himself for vengeance purposes. So, _I_ listen to his confessions. Draco's horribly honest. Filthy words and truths spill from a filthy mouth.

My fingers run over his wrists, over clotting blood and fading scars. I press my lips against his skin. His face contorts in pain. I can't differentiate whether it's from the burn of my saliva on his butchered flesh or the tenderness of my touch.

I should walk away….

"I hate you." Draco hisses after I heal his cuts.

"It's mutual." I lie, flatly.

"You're lying, Granger."

"…"

"You can't fix me."

But, I want to, because I love him, dead eyes, scarred skin, brokenness, and all.

And I _hate_ myself.

"Sleep, Draco."

He listens, but the nightmares begin quickly. And I calm him by breathing a kiss against his lips.

Draco sighs, "Go."

I listen because it's not my place to do anything else.


	3. Tomorrow

_Disclaimer: I don't own them. JKR does and I like to play in her sandbox. Sadly, I make no monies from this. :P_

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****Title:** Tomorrow  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Pairing:** Draco/Hermione  
**Written for:** dramione_ldws  
**Warning:** Mentions of abuse  
**Word count:** 499  
**Prompt:** had to take place at Hogwarts and no, they couldn't be students.

_Tomorrow._

The word echoed in her mind as he walked away. Tomorrow would mark the end of the vicious abuse cycle that she'd been trapped in for months. Tomorrow would be the beginning of her new life. Tomorrow would—the front door slammed. Hermione leaned against the wall. Tomorrow would be the end of slammed doors and shattered dreams.

Relief spilled from her frayed nerves.

Trembling and bleeding, Hermione took a deep breath. She couldn't stay. Realization would soon strike and he would return to play the role of the manipulative and apologetic abuser. She'd been fooled too many times already.

Never again.

Hermione stumbled into the dark bathroom.

Darkness had become a friend of hers; its blanket shielded her from the hideous creature that emerged as soon as the lights were turned on. _Reality_. When Michael had started hitting her, she remembered wanting to be encased in darkness forever. Life was easier that way, but not anymore. She turned on the light and its glow greeted her battered reflection in a kind of mocking glare.

She looked horrible: a bloody lip, swollen face, black eye, and numerous bruises. Numbly, she grabbed a wet washcloth and patted her tender lip. She could've healed herself magically, but her wand had been snapped to trap her inside of their warded home until he returned; a move Hermione had anticipated.

Her escape plan had been simple. Harry was supposed to come and help, but not anymore. That plan had backfired. She couldn't wait until tomorrow. Hermione pulled the gold necklace out of her torn shirt and wrapped her hand around the emerald pendant.

Immediately, the Portkey activated.

Hermione stumbled upon landing, but didn't fall. It was dark, but she didn't have to see to know where she had landed. She was just inside the gates of her refuge. _Hogwarts._ And he was waiting for her, as always.

"You weren't supposed to come until tomorrow."

Hermione squared her shoulders and faced the Potions professor. "He found the divorce papers."

When Draco Malfoy took in the sight of the battered witch, a familiar feeling of rage and pain swept through him. And when he hugged her, he promised, "I'll _murder_ Corner."

"I'm fine. I—"

"Don't leave." He implored for the millionth time. "Stay," the word hung in the air for a moment. "Stay with me."

Hermione's busted lip quivered. _Stay?_

She never asked herself what she'd done to deserve Michael's cruelty. She never pitied herself and refused to accept it from others. Was this pity? Did Draco—_no_, he didn't pity her. And tears filled her eyes. She had never cried before. Should she have? No. Michael wasn't diminishing her self-worth when he assaulted her; he was fighting for his own. That truth had gotten her through the toughest of times—and so had Draco.

_"Stay."_

_"Okay."_

Draco gently started to pull away.

She clung to him. _"Don't."_

"You need—"

"For now, let's stay."

"But—"

"Everything can wait until tomorrow."

_Tomorrow._

_A/n: Let me just say that I almost got booted because of this drabble. No one liked the theme of abuse. Le sigh. I loved this drabble, but people couldn't see past the fact that she got beaten a few times. My purpose was to show not just the fact that she got hit, it was to show her strength and courage to walk away. So, if anyone wants to flame me for making Hermione a victim of abuse, know this. ANYONE is _ _susceptible to abuse. It doesn't matter who you are, how smart you are, and how much money you have. It's possible to have someone you love and trust turn on you. It takes a strong person to stay alive, but it takes an even stronger person to leave. And Hermione did just that.  
_


	4. Forces of Nature

_Disclaimer: I don't own them. JKR does and I like to play in her sandbox. Sadly, I make no monies from this. :P_

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****Title:** Forces of Nature  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Pairing:** Draco/Hermione  
**Written for:** dramione_ldws  
**Warning:** Light language  
**Word Count:** 498  
**Prompt**: Had to take place at Hermione's birthday party

With his hand on the doorknob, Draco listened as his girlfriend of eight months chattered incessantly about the movie.

Flatly, "I was there, too."

"You fell asleep!"

He shrugged, "You're the only person in the world who enjoyed that shitty film."

"If that's how you felt, you should've stayed home!"

Draco smirked. "What kind of man leaves his girlfriend to her own devices on her twenty-fifth birthday?"

"I don't understand why you rented the _entire_ cinema so that I could watch _Forces of Nature_ if all you were going to do was complain. I have it on video."

"Well, I did it for you." The meaningful sentiment hung in the air for a moment. "But, now I know what rotten taste you have in movies."

"There was a great message in it!"

He opened the door for her. "What? If your plane crashes, don't accept rides from strangers?"

"Hmmph!" Hermione stomped into his home with Draco on her heels. He suppressed his smirk while she ranted. "The main moral of the movie is that _nothing_ works out exactly how you've planned and, speaking of, there's something I—"

Draco turned on the lights and thirty of her closest friends immediately jumped from their hiding spots, yelling, "SURPRISE!!"

The explosion of noise had caused the shocked Hermione to literally jump in the air and scream, "ARRGH!"

Draco cackled.

The next hour of Hermione's life was a big blur. Everyone bombarded her with gifts, hugs, and love. She didn't know who had moved the furniture, brought out the Firewhisky, and started the music, but soon enough, Draco's house was Birthday Party Central and everyone was having a fantastic time. Hermione slipped her hand into Draco's and he whispered into her ear, "Happy birthday."

She kissed him softly. Hermione often equated her life to _Forces of Nature_. Unforeseen circumstances, mistakes, failures, and other bumps had forced her to learn the true meaning of love. And in the end, for some inexplicable reason, some force of nature had drawn her to Draco.

"Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

"Tell me you're not still thinking about that shitty movie."

"I'm not thinking about—"

"It's your _birthday_. You're supposed to get drunk and sleep with a younger man." He wiggled his eyebrow suggestively.

"The drinking part is out," she mumbled.

"What?"

"It's like the movie. Life never happens the way that you plan—"

He interrupted, "Hold that thought. I _know_ I have a soapbox around here."

She slapped him in the arm, "I'm _trying_ to tell you something important!"

Grumbling, "Violent little—what do you want to tell me?"

Nervously, "I know we've been together eight months—"

He frowned. "You're rambling—"

It just so happened that the music softened enough for everyone to hear her say, "I'm pregnant."

Gasps, sputters, shrieks, and breaking glass were all that she heard next. And as sheer chaos erupted at her news and congratulatory drinks were passed around, Hermione grinned when Draco's frown turned into a wide smile….


	5. Oh How I Love Thee…

_Disclaimer: I don't own them. JKR does and I like to play in her sandbox. Sadly, I make no monies from this. :P_

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****Title: **Oh How I Love Thee…Let Me Count the Clichés  
**Rating: **PG-13  
**Pairing:** Draco/Hermione  
**Written for:** dramione_ldws  
**Warning:** mentions of nudity and light language  
**Word Count:** 499  
**Prompt:** Had to feature a cliché.

Trolls, Rita Skeeter, battles, and McLaggen's hands were all tests that life had thrown her way; tests she had passed with flying colours. Well, tonight Hermione was being tested again. The Head Girl started up the stairs of the Astronomy Tower and instantly knew that she was going to fail this one.

She wasn't going to survive the year without _strangling_ Draco Malfoy.

Were they even _thinking_ when they named him Head Boy? Apparently not! How could she work with the most egotistical, hedonistic, and indolent wizard in Hogwarts? So, he wasn't calling her a Mudblood, but he was still an arse. And attractive—she swatted that thought and straightened her spine.

Hermione had expected to find Malfoy with a witch, but the sight of the topless fifth year had made her blush and stammer, "One _hundred_ p-points from Ravenclaw, and a-a week of detention!"

The mortified witch wordlessly fled the scene with her hands covering her chest, leaving them alone. The Head Girl wasted no time. "You wanker!" she exploded. "I waited for you in the common room for an _hour_! It's our patrol night, but here you are with some—!"

Malfoy folded his arms. "Do I detect a hint of jealousy?"

"I'm _not_ jealous."

"Yes, you are. I don't blame you, though. I'm bloody sexy."

Hermione snorted. "Your arrogance astounds me, Malfoy."

"And so does _your_ prudishness."

It was only then that she realized the Head Boy had backed her into a corner. His scent and proximity unhinged her a bit, causing her voice to waver. "Stop c-changing the subject! This is the t-third time this week—"

He smirked. "Did you stutter, Granger?"

"No, now back away from me before I punch you."

"You're tense. You need to _relax_." Malfoy hissed the final word.

Hermione held her ground. "I'm warning you, I'll—"

"You're _not_ going to hit me. I'm Draco Malfoy: Slytherin Sex-God, virgin-deflowerer, and also, Head Boy."

"We'll see about that last one. I'm reporting you and that hussy—"

His face fell. "You wouldn't."

"Oh, try me." She haughtily challenged.

Malfoy sneered.

"Not the Malfoy sneer! I'm shaking in my knickers!" Hermione exclaimed sarcastically.

"_White_ knickers, I'm sure…." Malfoy started to go on, but caught sight of her tightening fist. "Granger, if you hit me, I'll—"

"What? Run to daddy?"

He frowned. "Precisely."

She scoffed. "You're pathetic."

"Tsk, tsk, you're in denial, Granger." He whispered into her ear, "You _know_ you think I'm sexy."

Ignoring the tingling in her stomach, the flustered witch shoved him away. He stumbled, but didn't fall. "You're _completely_ deluded!" Hermione squared her shoulders and composed herself long enough to tell him about tomorrow's Prefects' meeting. "And you had _better_ show up, or I'll tell McGonagall _everything_."

Draco Malfoy waited until she stormed off before he grinned, saying, "Oh, I'll be there."

Phase One of his ingenious plan had been a success. It was time for Phase Two….

Yes, Granger would be his before Christmas.


	6. The Eleventh Hour

_Disclaimer: I don't own them. JKR does and I like to play in her sandbox. Sadly, I make no monies from this. :P_

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****Title: **The Eleventh Hour  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Pairing:** Draco/Hermione  
**Written for:** dramione_ldws  
**Warning:** a little language  
**Word Count:** 499  
**Prompt**: Had to be told from another character's perspective.

_11:01pm_

She was leaving him.

_11:24_

Pansy lifted the wine glass to her lips and caught the sight of her sparkling engagement ring. It had been in the Malfoy family for seven generations and—sadness bubbled in her belly. Pansy would've cried, but she was far too dignified to succumb to such urges.

She glared at her ring.

It was priceless in the eyes of her family and society, but worthless in hers; just rock and metal….

But that wasn't why she was leaving him.

_11:32_

She refilled her glass.

Pansy had been a lot of things: a bitch, a coward and a bully, but she'd never been stupid. The signs had been in her face for _years_. At the War Anniversary Ball three years ago, Pansy had caught Draco gawking at the newly-single Hermione Granger. She'd been dancing with Bill Weasley, and when the married wizard had platonically kissed her cheek, Draco had frowned. That had been the first sign.

Granger's lingering looks at Draco had been the second.

His response to her accusation: _"That's absurd. She's my friend… and accountant."_

Pansy had accepted his lie because the truth was a harder pill to swallow.

She stared at her ring.

It was supposedly proof that his heart was hers, but that was a lie. It belonged to _her_….

But that wasn't why she was leaving him.

_11:46_

After her final glass of wine, Pansy rose to her wobbly feet.

_Hatred_. Where was it? She wanted it to consume her. Its presence would make leaving easier. Pansy wanted to hate Draco's fidelity. He'd never cheated, but he'd been dishonest with his love. She wanted to hate Granger for tearfully nodding when she'd answered Pansy's only question: _"Do you love him?"_ Pansy wanted to hate herself for overlooking the signs. She even wanted to hate Malfoy Enterprises for providing the atmosphere that had fostered their secret affection for one another. But she couldn't.

The fault belonged to no one.

She frowned at her ring.

It symbolized what she would've gained, but instead reminded her of what she was losing….

But that wasn't why she was leaving him.

_11:58_

With her suitcases in hand, Pansy stood in the doorway of their bedroom.

Many questions ran around in her head. Will Granger wait long to confess? When will she take _her_ side of the bed? Will he marry her? Pansy cringed. She needed to leave.

When she entered the lounge, her legs felt like lead. Where was that hatred? There _had_ to be more to feel other than pain and heartache.

She looked at her ring.

The engagement had been something that she'd talked him into, but no more. Pansy placed the ring on the table and backed away. If they loved each other, then she would take herself out of the equation to make things easier for them.

Why? Because someone had said that to _truly_ love someone was to let them go….

And _that_ was why she was leaving him.

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**A/n**: This drabble got me my first win and Mod's choice. Wee!


	7. Swallow My Pride

_Disclaimer: I don't own them. JKR does and I like to play in her sandbox. Sadly, I make no monies from this. :P_

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****Title**: Swallow My Pride  
**Rating**: G  
**Pairing**: Draco/Hermione  
**Written for**: dramione_ldws  
**Warning**: None  
**Word Count**: 100  
**Prompt:** Had to be exactly 100 words and feature a rumour.

Nothing human was perfect, but she was… for him, at least. Hermione complimented, challenged, and completed him. Her body fit against his as if they were one. Their chemistry was perfect… but perhaps they weren't.

They'd fallen apart, hadn't they?

Draco didn't know when they'd begun to crumble, but he cursed his pride, and hers, too. It was the root of their problems. Neither had been willing to compromise, but that wasn't true, either.

After all, she'd swallowed her pride when she'd asked, "Are the rumours true? You're over me?"

And Draco swallowed his when he'd replied, "Not even close."


	8. Eat

_Disclaimer: I don't own them. JKR does and I like to play in her sandbox. Sadly, I make no monies from this. :P_

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****Title:** Eat  
**Rating:** PG  
**Pairing**: Draco/Hermione  
**Written for**: dramione_ldws  
**Warning:** Creepy!Obsessed!Draco, magical bondage (nothing too serious, guys)  
**Word Count:** 499  
**A/N:** Slightly inspired by Stephen King's _Misery_.  
**Prompt:** Had to be creepy...written the week of Halloween.

_"Eat."_

The room was dark, lit only by the candlelight from half of the rooms' sconces, as well as two candles that smoked and flickered, reflecting in the polished surface of a long oak table that sat in the centre of the room. The thick curtains had been pulled across the windows to block out all natural light, and the end result was a darkly romantic glow that suffused the room.

The couple, dressed in their finest dinner attire, sat at opposite ends of the table, separated by expensive dinner plates, glasses, and a feast of rich foods. The wizard gazed lovingly at his witch. However, when Draco noticed that his love wasn't eating, he slammed his fist on the table and roared, "_Eat!_"

Hermione jumped and released a startled cry as she shook with fear. She tried to lean forward, but the magical bind kept her back against the chair. "Malfoy," she pleaded wearily, tears streaming down her cheeks. "You've k-kept me h-here for four m-m-months. L-let me go! _Please!_" She started sobbing hysterically.

"_Let me go,_" Draco mocked sadistically as he rose from his chair. When she struggled against her binds, he howled with laughter. Draco then sniffed her hair adoringly, ignoring how she trembled when he was near. She loved him, he knew it. Draco just needed her to realise the truth. "Look at me." When she didn't follow his command, he yelled. "_Look. At. Me!_"

Hermione's shoulders shook in terror. She didn't want to; there were things in his eyes that she didn't want to see, but she obeyed because obedience was better than his anger.

"Good girl." He kissed her cheek. He hadn't gone further than that. Draco wouldn't _dare_ hurt her. She was precious, exquisite, and _his_. He only wanted her to love him, too. And she would. _She would_. "I'll never let you go. _Never_." The love in his eyes clashed with the harshness of his voice.

"I-if you love me, l-let me go. I-I want to go home."

The psychotic gleam in Draco's eyes made Hermione's blood chill. "You _are_ home."

"No—"

His voice was stern yet loving. "Why, why, _why_ must you be so difficult, Love?" He stroked her cheek, but she stiffened. Draco frowned. "Days after everyone lost hope, I found you under the rubble after your potions lab exploded. I healed you. I allowed you to live in—"

"You've kept me here against my will!"

Draco shrugged, "Semantics."

She cried, "My friends—"

"You're dead to them, remember? They gave up. _I_ didn't. You don't need them anymore. Only _me_." He smiled lovingly. "Now, _eat_." When Hermione didn't, Draco yelled. "I _won't_ have a skinny bride!"

"I'll _never_ marry you!"

"Oh, yes you will." Draco held up a vial of Amortentia. "This'll ensure that you do." He nuzzled against her cheek when she bawled. "I _always_ get what I want, and I've wanted you for _so long_." Draco kissed Hermione's tear-soaked cheek and whispered, "Now, _eat_."

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Hehe, this drabble got me Mod's Choice. Wee!


	9. Transatlantic

_Disclaimer: I don't own them. JKR does and I like to play in her sandbox. Sadly, I make no monies from this. :P_

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****Title:** Transatlantic  
**Rating:** G  
**Pairing:** Draco/Hermione  
**Written for:** dramione_ldws  
**Warning:** None  
**Word Count:** 497  
**Prompt:** Had to take place OUTSIDE of England.  
**A/N:** Iqaluit is the territorial capital and the largest community of the Canadian territory of Nunavut. Inspired by _Transatlanticism _by _Death Cab for Cutie_. Beautiful song. Check it out.

The December sun was setting in Iqaluit, but the coldness of the world beyond the windows could never compare to the frost that covered her heart. Music poured from the wireless. Hermione sighed. What a melancholy ode to what her love life had become….

Loneliness.

It appeared around every corner in her cottage. She longed to reach out for him, but Hermione knew better. How could she expect him to be there after six months of unreturned letters?

They had argued the night that she'd left. Draco wanted her to stay. Iqaluit wasn't just four thousand and sixty-seven kilometres away; it was too large of a test for their new relationship. He didn't care that the fossils of an ancient dragon had been found there. He didn't care that her job as the head of the Dragon Research Department meant that she _had_ to be on location to oversee the excavation.

Draco had wanted her to stay, but Hermione had ended the fight by leaving.

She hadn't been warm since.

Now, she wished things had happened differently.

Hermione wrapped her blanket tighter around her body. She was tired of being so cold. And alone. The flood gates of her heart were finally open, and all she could do was stand there and cling to his final letter.

_I'll be waiting_. That was all the four month old letter had said. _I'll be waiting_.

She read those three words repeatedly before she tossed the letter on the table, walked away, and shook her head to rid herself of his words. But Hermione's gaze returned to his letter.

_I'll be waiting_. His words continued to plague her. _I'll be waiting_.

Hermione couldn't get away from them, and it forced her to accept the truth. She was wrong to leave the way she had. She was wrong for ignoring his letters. She was wrong, period.

But what could she do? There was an entire ocean between them and – was he _still_ waiting? So much time had passed since Draco had sent that letter. Things could have changed, and Hermione didn't know if her pride could handle – someone started banging on her door. Hard.

It was probably someone from the excavation team with extra firewood. She'd had more than enough, but it would be days before they could leave their cottages once the storm hit. Hermione opened the door, ready to put on her best smile for the person at her door. What she found instead made the fake smile, her heart, and the blanket fall around her ankles.

"Draco?" He was almost unrecognizable under layers and layers of winter apparel, but the unmistakable blond hair sticking out of the hat answered all questions about his identity. "How – _what_ are you doing here?" she asked over the howling wind.

He let himself into her house and shut the door before he turned and answered. "I got tired of waiting."

And for the first time since she'd left him, Hermione was warm.


	10. Amid The Fallng Snow

_Disclaimer: I don't own them. JKR does and I like to play in her sandbox. Sadly, I make no monies from this. :P_

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**Title:** Amid the Falling Snow  
**Rating:** G  
**Pairing:** Draco/Hermione  
**Written for:** dramione_ldws  
**Warning:** None  
**Word Count:** 100  
**Prompt:** free response, had to be 100 words exactly...written for the grand finale of the dramione_ldws.

The first snow fell as they walked.

Hermione stopped to peer up at the evening sky, smiling when Draco teased mercilessly her for dancing in place to keep warm.

When watching the swirling snow began to make her dizzy, Hermione lowered her head and continued searching through the rows of Christmas trees for just the right one.

"How about this one?" she stopped beside a fat balsam fir.

"It's perfect," Draco smiled, loving that Hermione was completely unaware of the picture she made; coat buttoned to her throat, snow sparkling in her fluffy hair, rosy cheeks from the cold. _"Just perfect."_


	11. In This Moment

_Disclaimer: I don't own them. JKR does and I like to play in her sandbox. Sadly, I make no monies from this. :P_

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**Title:** In This Moment  
**Rating:** G  
**Pairing:** Draco/Hermione  
**Written for**: dramione_ldws  
**Warning:** cuteness abound  
**Word Count:** 499  
**Prompt:** Had to be in second person...and feature a baby or a child. Also, for the dramione_ldws finals...I thought about doing something angsty, but utter contentment was what came out.

In this moment, rays of sunlight peek around slow-moving clouds. They momentarily obstruct your vision, but you move your head to the left. You refuse to tear your eyes away as your daughter takes the broom higher into the air, but not too high. You see the childish excitement in the eyes of the first-time flyer. Her grey eyes flutter, and her brown hair tangles in the wind.

Your wife stands next to you, gripping your hand so tight that her knuckles are white. You're positive that your hand hurts, but you can't feel it. You look at Hermione, but her eyes are locked on your daughter.

"Daddy! Is it time for lunch yet?"

That word never ceases to make your heart clench. _Daddy_.

Your wife answers when you don't. "Yes, it is. Are you hungry, Madison?"

She nods excitedly, and soon enough, you have an armful of six-year-old. You pick her up effortlessly, lifting her as high into the air as you can before placing her carefully back on the ground. Her laughter and chatter is endless, but you know that your world would be quiet without it. _Too quiet_. You look at your wife. She's smiling and glowing in the sunlight.

It's moments like these that leave you feeling as if there's never enough. Never enough time or laughter. Moments like this leave you feeling strong enough to stretch the moment out and spread it over an eternity.

You watch as Madison runs to the picnic blanket under the tree.

"She's getting so independent," your wife says, sadly. "Pretty soon, she'll—"

You hush her with a quick kiss.

All that matters is _this_ moment, but you don't tell her that; you're not sure how. Talking has never been your strength. It's in your expressions, your actions, and Hermione knows that better than anyone. The small nod she gives tells you that she still understands your silent point. A strand of her unmanageable hair blows into her face. You tuck it behind her ear. She leans into your touch.

"Mummy, can I have an apple?"

Hermione tears her eyes from yours. "I don't know, _can_ you?"

You chuckle under your breath at the look on Madison's face. "May I?"

"Yes, you may."

Your wife takes your hand and leads you to the picnic blanket.

Lunch passes, and soon, Madison joins the other children on the magical playground. You rest your head on Hermione's lap. Lying there gives you a new perspective of the same world. It's still colourful and noisy, but you feel at peace.

Your wife is lost in her story, and it leaves you to think about your own. The story of you and Hermione is one of amazement and Armageddon, of stubbornness and pride, and ultimately, of love and forgiveness. Your story isn't perfect, but these little moments are.

"Draco," she still glows. "Do you need anything?"

In this moment, you're content. You have everything you need.

* * *

I got second runner-up btw. XD 


	12. Beginnings

_Disclaimer: I don't own them. JKR does and I like to play in her sandbox. Sadly, I make no monies from this. :P_

**

* * *

**

**Title:** Beginnings  
**Rating:** G**  
Written for:** Random purposes.**  
Warnings:** None  
**Pairing**: Draco/Hermione  
**Word Count**: 91  
**Prompt**: None. Written randomly one morning.

Draco looks into my eyes and I stare back at his, fully content.

He stands in front of the park bench I'm sitting on and fixes his lips to ask me a question that will break the silence.

I close my book to give him my full attention.

All he asks is of one thing: "Granger, would it be all right if I sat with you?"

He wants to know if he could sit with me, to hear my words and think my thoughts.

And all I can do is smile.

* * *

This is the start to my non-competition drabbles. Ones that have been randomly written...there are only a few so far.


	13. Testament Of Truth

_Disclaimer: I don't own them. JKR does and I like to play in her sandbox. Sadly, I make no monies from this. :P_

**

* * *

****Title**: Testament of Truth  
**Rating**: G  
**Pairing**: Draco/Hermione  
**Written for**: luvlikerocketz: a Valentine's Day gift exchange  
**Warning**: None  
**Word Count**: 709  
**Prompt:** First Kiss (written for kalina_blue)

When Draco smiles at her at the Malfoy charity ball, all Hermione can think is that it would be nice, if it were real. She wants to believe it is, but she can't trust her instincts with him. She knows better. Hermione ignores the look in his eyes and goes with what she thinks she knows. But there is something that she can't define.

Something that frightens and excites her.

**ooo**

When Hermione makes a joke, Draco can't help but smile, even if it's a little forced. Somehow, around her, everything seems more real. Even in Malfoy manor – the most contrived place in England – she is more like a real person instead of a famous war hero and champion of lost causes. Draco thinks that she makes little jokes for his benefit. He always catches her looking at him to read his reaction, and so he smiles to appease her.

But she never seems sated.

**ooo  
**

When Draco yanks on his hair in frustration and looks at the clock for the third time, she wants to pull his hand back and run her own fingers through it. Hermione would love to be the one, but Draco always keeps her just out of reach; the distance seems minuscule but impossible.

It frustrates her.

When they overhear his father's snide comment about the life Draco chooses to live, he leaves the ball, mounts his broom, and flies high and recklessly in the evening sky. Hermione winces from the balcony with every dip and dive he takes. She knows that his relationship with his father hurts him to the point of exhaustion, and she wishes he knew he could reach for her. But until then, free-falling remains his only comfort, his broom the only thing that he has control over, the only thing he can afford to wreck.

He tries without success because some part of him is still afraid of letting go.

**ooo**

When he sees Hermione standing on the balcony, Draco pretends not to notice or care. He keeps his eyes on the horizon and flies his frustrations away. But he's not just flying because of his father; he's flying over her, too. Draco already accepts that he's not – nor will ever be – the man Father wants him to be. But he hasn't accepted the way Hermione has managed to burrow her way into his thoughts tonight. Bloody red dress.

He takes his broom higher into the sky.

**ooo**

When Draco flippantly dismisses her later that night, Hermione can't help but be hurt. He shouldn't try to push her away, just like he shouldn't have to be so defensive around her. She calls him on it, tells him that he's only pushing her away because he cares for her. Draco looks surprised, but as always, recovers.

He excels at it.

**ooo  
**

When Hermione tells him exactly how he feels, Draco is agitated, bothered. After her words register, he keeps wondering how she can read him so well, because nobody ever has. It's easy for him to compose himself and snap back, but he doesn't mean what he says. He only does it because he's afraid.

He only does it because it's the only way he knows how to handle his feelings for her.

**ooo  
**

When Draco kisses her for the first time, Hermione has to steady herself because it takes her completely by surprise. His kiss is a testament of truth, and that's not how she knows him. It confuses her. She's just called him on his feelings, his behaviour, and he is kissing her anyway. Hermione steadies herself because she's sure there's another reason for this—something, _anything_—and she needs time to figure it out. She also has to steady herself because it's what she's been secretly hoping for.

In that moment, his motives don't matter.

**ooo**

When Hermione finally kisses him back, Draco feels a sense of relief. He'd been sure she would push him away. He's used to being pushed, almost as much as he's used to doing the pushing. But now he's acting on impulse, without thinking, giving into her completely. She knows him, weaknesses and bruises and all, and she's still kissing him. Draco pulls her closer; he needs to know what closer feels like.

And when his walls come tumbling down, his world is still.


	14. Waking His Witch

**Title**: Waking His Witch  
**Rating**: G  
**Pairing**: Draco/Hermione  
**Written for**: luvlikerocketz: a Valentine's Day exchange fest  
**Warning**: None  
**Word Count**: 286**  
Prompt:** Red socks (written for little_dollface)**  
Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of JK Rowling. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**

* * *

**

His new girlfriend is an unrepentant cover hog, who sleeps under a massive cocoon of thick bedcovers and pillows, leaving him to fend for himself on his corner of the bed.

But somehow Draco always manages.

He leans against the door frame and drinks from his glass of orange juice. It doesn't matter that he's seen this sight almost every morning since she started sleeping over last month, Draco can't help but chuckle into his cup.

"Wake up, Granger. Your freckled friend is in my Floo, and she's not taking _'go the hell away'_ for an answer."

Silence.

It's time to bring out the big wands. "Wake up…_Hermione_."

More silence.

He moves on to the theatrics. "Fire! Fire! The building is burning down! Run for your _lives_!"

The silence continues.

Draco scratches his head. "Well damn."

Even more silence.

He rolls his eyes, crosses the room, places his glass on the bedside table, and observes. Nothing is visible except for a few curls that peek out from beneath the cream pillows and a pair of old red sock that sticks out from the bottom of the cocoon.

Not one.

Both.

And when those red socks disappear from sight, and the mountain of covers starts to shift, he knows that she is finally awake.

Hermione slowly peers out of her cocoon. She's a mess of matted hair, flushed cheeks, and wrinkled pyjamas. Imperfect in the eyes of others, perhaps, but flawless in his. The sight alone makes the cold nights on the edge of his bed worth it. Hermione then offers him a contented smile and lifts the covers as an invitation.

Draco smirks.

The Weasley girl can wait.


	15. He Wasn't Ready

**Title**: He Wasn't Ready  
**Rating**: PG  
**Pairing**: Draco/Hermione  
**Written for**: luvlikerocketz: a Valentine's Day exchange fest  
**Warning**: None  
**Word Count**: 709**  
Prompt:** One-shot based on - "Draco Malfoy did not watch Hermione Granger in a creepy stalker sort of way." Doesn't have to include quote. (written for _vintagebomb)**  
Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of JK Rowling. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.  
**A/N:** Ahh, my last one of these.

**

* * *

**

She was sitting there, waiting, but he wasn't ready.

Draco wrapped his fingers around the key in his pocket. It was just a key; just a nickel-plated brass key that she'd given him two months ago. It shouldn't have mattered to him, but it did because it _wasn't_ just about a key. It was about her. Draco was supposed to give it back when she gave him up, but he wasn't ready.

With an inward sigh, the wizard removed his hand from his pocket to check his watch.

Forty minutes.

Draco picked up the newspaper, opened it once, and peered over it to look at her.

Hermione sat alone at a table in the corner of the coffee shop, unnoticed by the world around her. People milled about without sparing her so much as a glance, but Draco had. Even with his hat lowered and the newspaper nearly covering his face, he saw her.

But she didn't see him.

The witch knew that Draco was coming; Hermione had arranged the entire meeting, but didn't know that he was already there, waiting.

And watching.

Her physical beauty was unimportant—not that it wasn't there, because it was. What he saw in her, what she allowed him to see, was much more than that. It was her loving looks, her caring nature, her warm embraces, and her belief in him. And as he sat there, Draco wondered why in the hell he'd let her walk away.

But he knew why. He'd known why from the very beginning.

Fear.

Draco wasn't sure if it was fear of failure or of success, but it was definitely fear that had made him keep her just out of reach. Close, but not close enough. He'd spent the first month of their relationship hiding behind anything and everything. She'd wanted to tell everyone about them, but Draco had kept her hidden like a dirty secret. Consequentially, as the months passed, she'd grown restless. She'd hated hiding him from her family and friends, and when she'd voiced her opinions, he'd always tell her, "Just a little longer."

And Hermione had believed him until one day, she stopped. Too much time had passed.

The next day, she was gone.

And today, he was supposed to be there to return the key to her flat, but…

He wasn't ready.

"Sir," the waitress greeted, "Would you like another coffee?"

Draco never tore his eyes away from Hermione. "No."

Her nose was buried in a book, and a bottle of flavoured carbonated water sat in front of her, a red and white striped straw poking out of the top. Her lips clasped around it, and her eyes never left the pages as she drank. Draco watched as she smiled without knowing it. He noticed every nuance of movement, every unconscious twirl of hair, and every small sigh as the words captured her. He noticed it all, but he didn't notice when the waitress walked away.

Draco checked his watch.

Twenty minutes.

And he still wasn't ready.

He pulled the key from his pocket. How could he give this up? How could he could he give her up?

Hermione was—

He closed his hand around the key. She was a feeler, a woman with strong emotions, tremendous elation, and deep sorrow, and she felt them all freely.

Hermione was—

Draco closed his eyes for a moment. She was fiercely loyal and stubbornly protective of him, even when he wasn't the same toward her. She was a listener, a comforter, and a support system strong enough to hold the weightiest of bridges.

Hermione was—

Draco sighed to himself. She was perfect and imperfect, and—

Draco opened his eyes. Fear and pride aside, he wasn't going to let her go.

With a look of set determination, Draco stood to his feet, set down his newspaper, took off his hat, and approached her table with the poise and grace that was distinctive of a Malfoy.

She looked up at him, surprised. "Draco? You're … early." She closed her book and sighed. The hurt in her voice was evident. "You must be ready to get this over with, then?"

Draco sat down across from her, a hesitant but steadfast smile on his face. "No, I'm not…"


	16. Until

Title: Until  
Rating: G  
Warning: None  
Pairing: Draco/Hermione  
Word count: 250 on the money!  
Written for: **dyno_drabbles  
Disclaimer: **All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of JK Rowling. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**ooo**

Six months and ten days had passed.

And yet, the busiest man in the wizarding world still had enough time to think about one thing: her.

While standing outside her home in the middle of a thunderstorm, Draco's mind drifted to the past. Their past. It seemed like no matter what he was doing and where he was, there was always something that reminded him of her. He'd spent every other night in a different city, and he still couldn't escape her memory.

He almost laughed at the irony.

Almost.

Truth be told, laughing had become difficult since she'd left him. Her last words still rang in his ears as he knocked on her door.

"You're not ready to commit, and that's fine. I understand. Just don't expect me to wait for you."

Since returning to London, he'd pretended that she didn't exist. It hadn't worked before; he wasn't sure why he thought it would work now. But, he'd tried.

Apparently not hard enough, because here he was.

He hadn't been ready before to tell her what she wanted to hear. Yes, he'd wanted her back, but he hadn't been ready for what came with her. Until he'd knocked on her door.

Until Hermione opened it.

"Draco?"

For a moment, he considered leaving. With a deep breath, he summoned all the courage he could muster and prayed she would listen to what he was about to say to her and understand why it had taken him so long.

"I'm ready."


	17. Turn Around

**Title:** Turn Around  
**Rating:** PG-ish  
**Warning:** smoking!Draco  
**Word Count:** 597  
**Written For:** **dyno_drabbles****  
Disclaimer: **All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of JK Rowling. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.  
**Author's Note:** This drabble was the winner and the mod's choice.

**ooo**

Draco waits against a tree in the park, a Muggle cigarette hanging from his lips. Oddly patient tonight, he stands still. This time is different, he knows and it makes him jittery with anticipation. Inhaling deeply, nicotine and smoke char his lungs until he feels…calm.

Hermione emerges from the fog, skin glowing pink from the cold. When she stops, there are exactly two steps of space between them.

"Hi," she says softly, an awkward tinge to her inflection.

His thoughts are broken as he meets her gaze.

"Hey." He nods. A silence hangs tensely in the air. He opens his mouth, pauses, then, "It's cold."

"You've always hated the cold." She smiles, and he knows it's contrived. "So how've you been?"

"Fine...working, nothing new. But I know you didn't ask me here to talk about work, did you?"

"I thought we could talk," she falters.

There is more to this than what she admits, but he refuses to push it, or her. He doesn't have it in him anymore, to pry for unwanted admissions. He's done it once with her and he refuses to do it again.

"And what, the café was too well-lit for you?" he retorts, wincing when her awkward chuckle greets his ears.

The café is where they usually meet, every Monday and Thursday after work. It's a little hole-in-the-wall wizarding place that hasn't been touched by—well, business owners like him. It is the only place they know where they can be themselves, and so when one of them writes, it is on the understanding that they'll meet there.

But tonight is different.

The cigarette, now burned to its filter, falls to his feet. He crushes it with barely masked venom. As he lights another one, Hermione advances towards him. He sidesteps her and her features contort, obviously hurt by his actions, yet he feigns ignorance. She has no idea about hurt.

She is now precisely one step away from him, and Draco is aware of his laboured breathing. "What do you want?"

Hermione stumbles on her words. "I—just wanted to talk."

"We don't have anything left to talk about. I told you I wanted to be with you, and you said you didn't feel the same way. I get it. The end."

"That's not the end." And her next words come out through gritted teeth, "I lied."

"Oh come on," is the only thing Draco can articulate because his mind is running a hundred miles a minute. He starts to walk away because he doesn't have the time or the patience for her games.

"Hey!" she calls out.

And as much as his head wills him to keep going, something halts his movement.

"What?" he snaps, keeping his back to her. He knows that to face her would cross the line of the merely difficult and pass over into the unbearable.

He can hear the desperation in her voice and it makes him frown. "I was scared, okay? I wasn't expecting anything and you just came out of nowhere with your feelings! I didn't expect it, and I didn't expect to develop feelings for you, either. Yes, I lied to you, but only because I didn't want to mess it up by getting serious. You—I was scared, Draco. I felt lost!"

"You weren't the only one, Hermione, but at least I was willing to give it a chance."

"I am willing! Now, at least."

Draco's shoulders stiffen. "Why now?"

"Because I—we're lost in this," she pauses and murmurs her next words, "But it feels like home."

He turns around.


	18. Last Chance

**Title:** Last Chance  
**Rating:** PG**  
Warning:**** None  
Word Count:** 297  
**Written For:** **dyno_drabbles**** __****The prompt was a picture of Draco dipping Hermione in front of a fireplace. Had to be less than 300 words**  
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of JK Rowling. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.  
**Author's Note:** This drabble was the winner.

**  
ooo  
**

She dances with her eyes closed, and Draco knows she's picturing _him_ instead. Draco never closes his eyes when they dance. Deep down, he's a dreamer and it would be easy to just let himself slip out of this reality and into a better one where this dance never ends….

But it will. Tonight. He knows this, he's accepted this, and he keeps his eyes open because he doesn't want to miss a second of their last dance.

Draco doesn't want to think about how they came to be dancing in his sitting room the night before her wedding. When she'd asked him for lessons, he'd known it couldn't end well. It makes him cringe and lament his loss of self-control. So he doesn't think about it while he effortlessly leads her through the steps of the waltz. His movements are fluid, practiced, and eyes are on her. His nerves, on the other hand, are completely frazzled. Draco has to tell her. He knows that it's tonight or never.

Tonight. Tonight. Tonight!

Hermione opens her eyes and asks, "I've gotten better, haven't I?"

"You have," he replies.

Hermione smiles and he's inclined to think it's for him. It reads like a secret invitation that he's tempted to accept, but doesn't. He's unsure if he's imagining it, and his pride cannot take a blow.

His stubborn pride is what has kept him from telling her. Draco tries to push it down until suffocates in his subconscious. He's a fool for loving someone like her. Someone who belongs to another. It's an overdone and pathetic cliché, but he's already done it.

There is no going back.

And with that, he dips her, low. Hermione flings her head back with trusting abandon and Draco swallows thickly before he whispers, "Don't marry him."


	19. The Good Things

**Title:** The Good Things  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Warning:** some swearing, subtle humor.  
**Word Count:** 497  
**Written For:** **dyno_drabbles****  
Disclaimer: **All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of JK Rowling. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.  
**  
**

**ooo**

On the day Weasley's Wizard Wheezes had their grand opening in Hogsmeade, the joke shop was crowded with investors, townspeople, running children, and parents. It was a breeding ground for germs, chatter, laughter, disease… and _Weasleys_.

Draco shuddered, not knowing which was worse: playing nice with the Weasleys for the second time this week or being run into by countless, ill-mannered children. However, when a chubby redheaded boy tripped and landed _on_ his feet, Draco quickly concluded that it was a tie. He waited until the boy got to his feet to grab him by the back of his robes.

"Stop. _Running_."

The boy let loose with an ear-splitting scream that forced Draco let him go in favour of protecting his hearing. And what did the little savage do? He _ran _off!

"We really need to work on your people skills."

"_What?!_"

"And your hearing abilities, too."

Draco frowned, turned, and ended up doing a double take at the sight of his girlfriend _sitting_ on a bench perched against the wall with a book covering her face. "What in the hell are you doing?"

Hermione's sigh was wistful. "Dying and going to literature heaven."

"_Now?_ In the middle of all this? Seriously?!"

She shot him a look and closed her book with a snap. "Well, not anymore, since you've ruined my reverie!"

"Reverie?" Draco scoffed and shook his head. "Sometimes I worry about you."

Unfazed by his attitude, Hermione rolled her eyes. "Haven't you ever gotten lost in a good book? I mean, if you're going to get lost, doing it in a good book is the best way to go. Definitely beats getting lost while travelling or lost like those people who were stuck on that island and killed off one by one…."

Draco could only shake his head. "I don't know how I keep up with you. I barely understood a word you said."

Hermione frowned. "Nobody appreciates the good things anymore."

He looked at her seriously. "I do."

She blushed momentarily and stood. "I'm—going to find a place where Mr. Darcy and I can _properly_ reacquaint ourselves."

"I think you two have spent more than enough time reacquainting, Granger." He closed the distance between them, but held back his grimace when another child ran into the back of his legs.

Hermione's laughter turned into a cough when he glared.

Despite the interruption, he continued smoothly, "I don't like to share for too long, you know." Draco plucked the book from her hand. "Think I can steal you away from all these people and Mr. Darcy for a few hours?"

She forced a sigh, but couldn't keep her smile at bay. "I suppose it _is_ rather busy in here, and Mr. Darcy _is_ about to propose to Lizzie in a very inept way. I'd be willing to forgo that in favour of a few hours alone with you. What did you have in mind?"

Draco smiled wryly. "I think we can figure something out."


	20. My Broody Valentine

**Title:** My Broody Valentine  
**Rating:** G**  
Warning:**** None  
Word Count:** 497**  
Written For:** **dyno_drabbles****  
Disclaimer: **All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of JK Rowling. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.  
**Author's Note:** This drabble was written as their ship teaser for February.

**  
ooo  
**

She sat in the Ministry's cafeteria, eating a sandwich and pretending to read a book. In actuality, she was calculating the number of ways to kill some—if not all—of her _oh-Merlin-look-what-my-boyfriend-got-me-for-Valentine's-Day_ co-workers. She hated them with a passion that was reserved just for the holiday.

It wasn't, as her friends had pointed out, because she'd been single for years. It wasn't because of how commercial the whole day was and the only people who were ever truly happy on Valentine's Day were masochists and florists. It was because it had a knack for reminding people of their broken hearts and lonely nights, and she'd never forgive Valentine's Day for that.

She jumped in her seat at the sound of a voice clearing.

Expecting to see her best friend's messy hair and green eyes, she couldn't hide her confusion at the sight of reserved greys before her. The civility she usually maintained when they were paired together on projects disappeared in a blurted question: "What do you want?"

"To sit." Then he did. Next to her.

She closed her book, folded her arms, and observed him. "Obviously, you're not here to eat."

"No. I'm here because it's Valentine's Day and—"

"Six hundred and thirty-seven."

A blond brow rose. "Excuse me?"

"That's how many ways I can kill someone without my wand. I've spent the last fifteen minutes calculating it with the intent to try a few on the people who start talking about Valentine's Day." She stared pointedly at him.

Her words would've left anyone else uncomfortable, but they made him smirk. "That sounds a bit bitter."

"I am _not_ bitter," she replied indignantly.

His smirk morphed into a small smile. "Your words say otherwise."

"They do not!"

"Yes, they do. I've worked with you for three years now. I can hear the self-righteous, _'Valentine's Day is only in existence to remind people of what they don't have'_ in your voice."

Unfortunately, he was correct. Not that she would ever admit such a thing. She mindlessly tucked a few strands of her bushy hair that escaped her bun and asked. "What do you want?"

"A chance to show you that Valentine's Day isn't always so horrible."

First she looked bemused, then dubious. "How might you do that?"

"I was thinking dinner and one of those enema shows Muggles seem to adore."

She smiled for the first time all day. "You mean the cinema?"

"Right. That."

"Tonight? With me? But I'm a—"

"Let's not lament on our Hogwarts days. We've both grown up and changed since then."

"I'm sure _I_ have, but—"

"Look, nothing changes one's mind about priorities and prejudices like nearly being burnt to a crisp by Fiendfyre."

She stared at him hard for several moments, and then her eyes softened. "You're actually serious?"

"Yes," he leaned closer. "So will you accept my invitation despite our history and your dislike for the holiday?"

The next word came out easier than she'd expected: "Yes."


End file.
